Devil To Pay
by LithiumDoll
Summary: Enter Gambit, Stage Left NOW FINISHED
1. Part 1 - Prologue

A shrill bell echoed through the rapidly emptying school halls, he listened as the chattering crowds thinned into silence and gave way to just the murmer of voices from the classroom who's vent he was currently occupying. He looked down through the grill, careful to move nothing but his eyes. A pretty little thing was murdering the French language with disconcerting enthusiasm.   
  
"Jooo vooodray oon, um, like, glassy silvooos.."   
  
"Enough!" The pained expression of the teacher he couldn't see, but the near horror in her tone suggested it was most certainly there. "Miss Pryde I do believe you may have discovered an entirely new form of torture, please sit down"   
  
For a moment it looked as though the femme was about to reply. But her lips thinned against whatever comment she was thinking of making and she retook her seat, staring at the desk top intently as the sniggers of the others in the class died away.   
  
He felt a faint sympathy for her, but it didn't last long. He had a job to do, not highschool kids to feel sorry for. Besides it looked like she was getting sympathy enough from the stealthy passage of notes progressing towards her desk.   
  
A thief's eye trained the origins of their source more from habit than anything. One from a goth girl sat in the very farthest corner looking pale and interesting. Well, that was the job of a goth. The other from a boy he could barely see through the small square window on the room the vent made. Just a vague impression of a reedy thin figure with a mop of brown hair.   
  
But he hadn't chosen this vent for it's superb view of the comedy stylings of the french class, as the sound of a door slamming swiftly reminded him as it echoed down the metal interior. Red on black eyes watched down the narrow tube as Principle Darkholme left her office and stormed away. Same as she did every day at this time, he knew from previous observations, and if those were anything to go be she'd be gone an hour or more.   
  
With the hum of the air conditioning covering the few sounds he made, he moved along the vent towards her office. The electric screwdriver made short work of the cover's screws and into her sanctum he dropped, already taking the pick gun from the belt at his waist as he eyed the desk and discounted it. She wouldn't keep her files in there, and the computer on it probably wouldn't yield much either. Both way too easy to crack open.   
  
"'k ... if Gambit a paranoid terrorist surrounded by enfants ... where he keep his files?"   
  
His wandering gaze fell on the teaching diploma hanging decoriously on the far wall between the large bay windows and he grinned.   
  
Lifting the picture down carefully in gloved hands revealed nothing but a blank stretch of wall, but the smirk didn't die. Minute little cracks in the paint work might look random to someone who hadn't been trained by the Thieves Guild, but to someone who had ... well ... the depression panel on the wall slid back and to the side easily, revealing the real challenge beyond it.   
  
The air hissed between his teeth in a low whistle of appreciation at the sight before him, complete with it's happy flickering lights and LED display. He had to hand it to the lady, she didn't go half way. Under a keypad, tumbler and what appeared to be a modification to the internal security, it was a Knight model safe.   
  
Eyes narrowed slightly he followed the course of the errant wire from the keypad to where it disappeared behind the safe. It probably activated something nasty and permanent to whoever didn't have the code, not to mention whatever was inside.   
  
The boss had said nothing about getting in and out undetected, but an obscure sense of professionalism prevented him from just blowing the door off. No, Jean Luc's favourite pain in the ass was going to do this the right way.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the LED display had begun a thirty second countdown.   
  
Already he could hear his father's sardonic tone asking him why he hadn't checked the panel for wires with that handy little electrometer in his pack before sliding it back. Unfortunately the berating voice wasn't much help in the way of inspiration as the seconds ticked by, so he ignored it.   
  
Doubting it would have a great deal of chance, he swiftly sprayed a fine mist of aerosol over the keypad. It completely failed to show where the buttons had been pushed, and now he was down to twenty.   
  
He muttered under his breath, not panicing yet, but slipping into French almost absently "maintenant tu m'emmerdes"   
  
There wasn't any choice now, the idea of gambling his skills against a countdown that short didn't appeal. Goodbye finesse, hello brute force. The cover came off easily enough, exposing the tangle of wires on the board within. The tangle of wires all exactly the same colour on the board within. Was there anywhere the putain hadn't meddled? Anyone would think she didn't want her files taken or something ...   
  
The wires began to glow a lurid shade of pink as he sent a kinetic charge through them. Not to explode, he doubted that would leave much of anything intact, most importantly him. Instead they began to slowly disintegrate. The LED countdown stopped had stopped at 11. Of course, that didn't mean the safe wouldn't blow.   
  
A playing card slipped between the frame and the door, he charged it quickly with what he hoped wasn't too much force and flattened himself against the wall. The door blew passed him and embedded itself in the plaster and wood wall opposite with the sound of tortured metal and whisper of backdraft fire.   
  
There was no time to check what to take from the smoking safe and every angel or demon sent to watch him was screaming it was time to leave. He dumped everything into the bag, they could be checked for bugs once he was out of the blast radius. No time to do anything the easy way any more, he dove towards the glass windows, falling to the ground below but landing on his feet.   
  
He was nearly at his bike when the corner office exploded.   
  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=   
  
NOTES :   
1)That's sort of the prologue, next chapter would be longer, but not really sure if it's worth continuing or not ...   
  
2)"maintenant tu m'emmerdes" - "now you're p*ssing me off"   
"putain" - "b*tch"   
  
3) Ok, I did my homework .. a bit. A Knight safe is a very good safe, I really don't know if it can be modified that heavily. But if it can, you gotta know Mystique did :)


	2. Part 2

"There!" 

Principle Darkholme's finger stabbed viciously at the monitor screen as Todd quickly froze the screen on a blurred image of a figure leaping through the window, clutching a bag to him. There wasn't much to see. A lean figure in a black body suit, face mostly concealed by some kind of half mask. The cameras watching the building weren't exactly digital quality. 

"Sooo ... what'd he take?" He looked up at the still fuming woman from his perch on the chair, nervously throwing the remote from hand to hand. 

Her voice was an unholy purr when she turned to face him, and he suddenly wondered whether drawing her attention had been such a good idea. She was just looking for a target. 

"You. And all the other little mutants in my care. The files were on you." She stalked closer to him as she continued; he slunk slower on his haunches, wishing he could sink through the chair like Kitty. "So, you and the others will just have to go and retrieve them, if you value your privacy" 

"But..." 

"**NOW**" 

He fled bounding from the room, throwing the remote control behind him in a panic and only redoubling his speed when he heard the snarl a slavering beast might well make if, say, hit on the head by a flying television accessory. 

Mystique held the slimy remote in her hand and watched his haphazard escape without a smile, then turned to stare at the figure on the screen with every ounce of venom she could muster. 

When the gentle slide of her paper clips across the desk in her temporary office was caught out of the corner of her eye, she spoke in a level tone without turning. 

"Do you know who he is?" 

A whisper of a deep timbred voice answered her. "Your thief was young, inexperienced, but trained well. He should not be hard to identify with my resources. But Charles will know more, and more quickly. Cerebro will have picked up on his mutant signature, no doubt." 

When she turned, he was gone. With a slight frown she took her seat behind her desk, steepling her fingers and staring over them at the door, seeing nothing but her own thoughts. 

Obviously the thief was indeed a professional, he had to have watched her for some time, seen that she ferried those files between the office and home, rarely letting them out of her sight except for those daily meetings with the faculty. 

But he hadn't counted on her security measures, plainly. To go to that much effort to get in undetected and then leave in such a spectacular manner suggested he had simply panicked. A sign of youth most certainly. But not so much panic, the files were gone and the job was done. But who would want those files in the first place? 

Oh, there were many names that came to mind, but none who would contract out in such a fashion. No, it seemed a new player was on the board. Her lips finally curled into a humourless smile. And if a new player was on the board, it was unlikely they would be interested in just _her_ files. 

She hit the intercom switch on her desk. "Abigail, could you please have Pietro Maximoff sent to my office immediately?" It was time for the Brotherhood to earn their keep and while scaring Toad had been satisfying, she didn't expect him to do a great deal more than run around like a headless chicken after her orders. 

Without waiting for a reply, she sat back, listening to the sounds of the workmen rebuilding the corner of the school, those unfortunate propane leaks really did give them more work these days. 

A quick knock gave her a touch of warning, but little else before the young man known as Quicksilver stood before her, shifting in place as if the effort of keeping still was just too much. She stared at him icily until the cocky smirk faded and the fidgeting stopped, then spoke. 

"As Toad will have no doubt badly explained to you, some files were stolen in the explosion yesterday." 

He gave a nod, but didn't interrupt her. He knew better than to try anything while she had that particular expression. The expression he had labelled '#8 - I will eat you alive if you give me the slightest reason. Go on, give me a reason'. 

"I believe the thief's next target may well be Xavier's school, and I suspect he will strike soon. No sense in allowing them to reach the same conclusion and take precautions, after all. So I wish you to gather the Brotherhood and watch their building. You are not, I repeat not, to interfere with the thief until he is leaving with the files. Then you will catch him and bring him and whatever he is carrying to me, understood?" 

Another nod greeted her words and she went on. 

"The X-Men are not, and I really cannot stress this enough, not, to be allowed to see you there. Are we clear? You are in charge of this operation, I expect nothing but perfection from you." 

Finally he felt the need to speak, but the questions died sub vocally at her look. That was subtly different '#8a - I will eat you alive, I do not require a reason'. 

"Yes Ms Darkholme, we'll be leaving right now." 

He hit the corridor at a fraction of his potential speed, but still breaking the long standing school 100 meter sprinting records without breaking a sweat, heading for the lunch hall. Sliding to a stop at the table currently holding the members of the Brotherhood and what could only be called a mountain of food, he sat. 

"We got a job." 

Todd began to scale the east side of the food, sneaking closer to the remaining cheeseburger while Fred's attention was distracted. 

"Yeah? Wot?" Blob chewed methodically on the pizza slice, more interested in his lunch than their new assignment. 

Pietro leaned closer, lowering his voice, Lance dragged his chair up to listen to the muttered words, hastily saving his sandwich from Blob's merciless onslaught upon every edible thing on the table. 

"Right, we gotta watch the X-Freak's place. Mystique thinks they're going to be hit next by whoever the guy was that made her office go boom. When he hits, we get him and whatever he's taken. But the catch is, we gotta do all this without them noticing we were there." 

A round of silence greeted him from the other three at the table, accompanied by dubious stares. 

"Oh c'mon, how hard can it be? They're all gonna be here and we just have to watch. It's not like we have to camp out on the front lawn." 

Lance was the first to see the bonus. "You saying we just got a 'get out of wood-shop free' card? Why are we still here?" 

From their table at the other side of the hall, the gathered students of Xavier watched bemusedly as the Brotherhood jumped up from their seats and fled the room almost as one. 

They looked at each other; Rogue just shrugged as all glances eventually turned askance to her. "Ah don' know, why you lookin' at me? They're just weird." 

Kurt grinned and finished the last of his shake with gusto and the nasty drainpipe sound of a straw pushed too far in search of the last drops of the sugary milk "Because you're nicer to look at than Scot fraulein." 

Scot ignored the comment, still staring at the swinging doors the Brotherhood had just vacated through. "Bets this has something to do with that explosion yesterday?" 

Evan shook his head, speaking around a full mouth. "No takers". 

"Sil vous plait …" Kitty looked up from the French book she had been pouring over all lunch time. "Uh … did I miss something?" 


	3. Part 3

**Disclaimer** Ooops, forgot this on the first couple ... let's pretend this is on all chapters. It's all Marvel's. Suing will profit no one. There we go :) 

He liked the quiet of the school hours; the Professor was holed up with Cerebro, trying to pinpoint a new mutant that had registered for a moment, and then disappeared. The kids and their seemingly endless energy for making his life crowded and noisy were at school, Ororo in her garden. The almost sweet scent of rain on a summer's day suggested she was watering her plants. Sometimes he wished he could get just a little of her inner peace. Other times, he was more than happy with the nature he possessed. 

Like now, for instance. His restlessness induced jog around the house had bought familiar but unwelcome scents to him on the slow breeze. He couldn't see them, but the Brotherhood were nearby. Not near enough to be on the grounds, but a smell like Toad's carried. Swamp, and the faintest bitter aroma of cigarette smoke under it. Didn't know any of them smoked, bad for them, good for him. Just made them easier to track. 

He tapped the communicator on his jacket. 

"Professor? It's Logan. We got … guests." 

Rather than use the communicator, Xavier chose a more direct method, speaking directly into Wolverine's consciousness. It felt like an echo inside his skull, but he was used to it. 

"Who has come to pay us a visit? Should I alert Storm?" 

Logan paused, then shook his head. An unconscious gesture he used to send a negative. "Just the Brotherhood punks. I'll go see what they want and chase 'em off." 

"Very well, I'll monitor you in case of trouble" 

He debated changing into his work clothes, but that would just be giving them too much credit. Instead he just slipped into a prowl of a stride, heading towards the scent. They were by the east wall by the looks of it, he picked up whispered words the closer he got. 

"Quit shovin'" 

"Who stole my twinkie?" 

"No one stole your twinkie Blob, you ate it just now" 

"No! My _other_ twinkie" 

The sound of hasty swallowing and then Toad's slightly food thickened voice. 

"You musta lost it. Could happen to anyone." 

"Will you all just shut the hell up?" 

The last he recognised as Quicksilver, the voices fell silent for a moment, then came the low grumbling rumble of Blob again. 

"'s not like anyone's gonna hear us" 

Well, that sounded like his cue, he jumped easily up onto the wall, crouching there and looking down at the four young men sitting in a loose circle, giving a toothy snarl of a smile as they raised their eyes in his direction. 

"You're right bub, not just _anyone_ heard you." 

To punctuate his words to their full effect, he bought his hands around in two arcs, snapping out the adamantium claws. 

And in the shadows of the tree overhanging the grounds, scent masked quite effectively by the odour of Toad, Gambit grinned. As he watched the four would be kidnappers of his person drew together with startled expression, then stood ready to fight the hairy guy. It was nice of them, he acknowledged, to have arrived shortly after he and recapped their purpose here right under his nose. Downright friendly. 

It would take the guy the folder on this job had identified as Wolverine a while to deal with them, leaving just the weather witch and the spook for him to get around. He dropped soundlessly into the garden, keeping to the wall for now, heading towards the back of the house, not quite able to keep the amused smirk from his expression. 

Avalanche was the first the move, his eyes rolled back in their sockets as he forced his powers past the nauseating headache they provoked and into the ground under the section of wall Wolverine was on. The mortar began to shake out from between the stones as the earth caved in with an almost tearing sound, forcing the bastard to come down to ground where the others could pile on him. 

It was a sound enough tactic, save that Wolverine was already moving when the first tremors hit, vaulting over and landing behind them. "That's coming outta your allowance boy." 

A frozen tableau held for a moment as the test of the Brotherhood wavered in their attack, the plan had gone so far out of whack it was almost coming back on itself, and they hadn't even discussed what to do if they _were_ seen. 

Quicksilver broke the silence, talking fast even for him. "Hey, HEY! It's a free country. We're allowed to be here. You don't own the sidewalk you know." 

As he was speaking, the other shifted to try and surround the distinctly unimpressed looking man, who nonetheless seemed willing to talk rather than fight, for now. 

"Sure, and you're all gussied up in your workin' gear cause what? You forgot to do the laundry? What do you want?" 

Then he paused, ignoring them and the round of lame excuses they came up with, taking deep breaths as he tried to catch something more than the stench of Toad. The smell of smoke was gone, nearly vanished. It didn't take a genius to see someone, or someones, had used the Brotherhood for cover. They were a diversion. That tore it. 

He lunged forward with one hand and caught a squirming Toad by his neck, shaking him thoroughly. "Who were you with?" 

The boy looked nothing but confused by his question, slowly going purple, eyes bulging at the lack of air. The Blob was coming to the rescue, but he didn't have time for this. He threw his prisoner at the walking whale and sent his thoughts to the Professor as he ran back towards the house. 

"We got a problem, looks like someone snuck on in while I was playing with the kids. I'll go find 'em, get Storm out to clear of the BrotherHoods. And they broke the wall." 

Xavier knew better than to reply to Logan when his mind became a feral place, the man was on the hunt now and disturbing him would not be advantageous for anyone. Instead he directed his mind towards Ororo and found it waiting for instructions. She had heard the sound of the wall collapsing and was already on her way. Quickly he gave a précis of his conversation with Wolverine, then left her to secure the perimeter. 

Only then did he sit back, close his eyes on his office, and open them on the astral plane. A washed out version of the real, bathed in a soft light that seemed to have no source. Behind him he felt the strand of self that connected his roving mind to his body, a delicate golden thread that drew its strength from his mind. Once someone had tried to cut it, the resulting shock had sent his attacker into a coma for three weeks. He somewhat doubted it would be under threat today. His mind stood in his form and floated up, the intruder would be found. 

They were on to him. It was the little things that made it obvious, like where the blinking green lights of security measures on the buildings outside wall began to blink red. The fact his could hear terrified screams from the location of the Brotherhood as lighting rained down upon them. Oh, and the fact he was watching Wolverine through a crack in the door of his hiding place beneath the stairs. The man was about five feet away, sniffing the air. Hopefully the detergents he had spilt around him would mask his suddenly obvious scent here and the man would follow the trail he had made coming down from the roof. 

Luck smiled on her wandering boy as Logan bounded away, heading up. The office was just across the hall, but that wasn't his target. Slipping out of the closet, after carefully taking a moment to oil the hinges he had noted the squeak of on the dive in; he padded on thick carpet towards Xavier's ground floor private rooms. 

The door was locked, unsurprisingly, but the pick gun made short work of it. He slipped inside and locked it behind him once more. Empty, as he'd been led to believe it would be. 

Without moving, he let his gaze travel searchingly around the large room. A neatly made double bed in the corner was almost over-shadowed by the sheer amount of … junk. Overflowing bookcases on every wall, table in the centre piled with paper work and a half hidden chess set. It wasn't so much untidy as struggling to hold the amount that was within it. And, somewhere, within the chaos was the safe that held the files too important to risk putting in such an obvious place as the office. 

The walls were covered by paintings, but as there were rooms both side of this one, he doubted the safe would be behind of them, to large to go in such shallow area. That left the floor. He chuckled a touch ironically and whispered under his breath. 

"K, if Gambit a paranoid Professeur surrounded by enfants, where he put his files?" His eye fell on the worn but expensive, he absently noted, rug by the bed …   
  


His scan of the building and grounds had produced nothing save for the irritated / amused mind of Storm and the savagely concentrated one of Logan. The intruder was here, there was no doubt, he simply couldn't sense him. So he had been reduced to a room by room search, as Logan was now upstairs, he began on the ground floor. 

His office revealed no one, which was enough of a surprise he spent a moment to check for evidence that someone had been and gone. Finding none he thought next of the aircraft hanger, but it too was empty. With a sensation of worry growing, his own bedroom was his next target. No one save himself knew of the files in there, it was inconceivable they might be discovered, even so he took himself there in an instant rather than use the corridor in some semblance of normalcy. 

Something which Gambit would have been most grateful for as he sped along it towards the kitchens, had he known there was a possibly of a ghost lying in wait for him. 

Seeing Logan burst through the locked door as he appeared in the middle of his room, he returned to his body. The thief had been there indeed, and he must be stopped. Forgoing a polite mental knock, he caught Storm's thoughts. 

"The intruder may be coming back towards you, it is imperative he is stopped!" 

He caught the sense of his own urgency reflected as an affirmative as he went with as much speed as he could muster towards his rooms, calling out mentally and physically, trying to keep his tone pressing but not worried. 

"Wolverine! They'll be in the grounds, please aid Storm in detaining who ever this is" 

The other man came out of his rooms at a run a second later, following his directions, as well as his nose, passed him and towards the kitchens that opened onto the back garden. 

Everything in his bedroom was as he'd left it, but that meant nothing. With speed, but not haste, he flipped back the rug over his floor safe. There were no scratches to show forced entry, but he quickly leaned down to turned the 5-pin combination and lifted the door. Empty. 

Then he heard what appeared to be mortar explosions in the garden, accompanied by the more familiar lighting flashes and growl of Wolverine about to cause someone a great deal of pain. 

  
  
It had all been going so well, he hadn't had to blow anything up for a start. He was nearly over the wall when the lightning struck the section he had been leaping towards, causing him to veer away with an undignified yelp of surprise. 

He span in a half crouch to face his pursuers, Wolverine and, if the way she was floating on a gale wind and throwing down the wrath of a maelstrom at him was to be guessed by, the weather witch. It was unlikely he could fight off both, but maybe they could be distracted enough for a while to give him a chance to figure a way out. 

"Well mes amis, gotta say I t'ought y' be quicker 'n dis." 

Both still came forward, wanting to get close enough they could just reach out and touch someone. Namely him. With claws. Never good. From his pocket he pulled three cards, fanning them open and feeding a less than lethal charge into the cardboard. Then he aimed a charming smile to belle femme, who at least looked confused. 

"Pick a card" 

When she frowned, his grin widened and he threw, a shot across her bows, no more. He saw Wolverine abruptly alter course to catch Storm's plummet from the sky, but decided against sticking around to make sure he made it. The wall was his only target now, and the unhealthy sound of a Wolverine closing in was behind him. 

To his surprise, he actually made it over the wall this time, diving into the car he had … borrowed … for the day. The engine started on the first try and he sped away, glancing at the rear view mirror, hoping that Wolverine was not as close as he appeared. Claws rented the metal of the wheel covering, but then in a screech of tires he was pushing 80 away. 

Job done. 

Xavier looked up at the two X-Men as they approached him, Logan's anger written over his face, Ororo looking simply thoughtful. He spoke as heartily as he could. "Well, I think the young man may have found another hole in our security. Storm? Do make a note we should have the walls wired with motion detectors." 

She nodded regally as Wolverine as his claws slid in and out, in again. "It was a kid. Just a kid. What the hell did he want?" 

"He's taken my files on the students here Logan" 

That stilled the other man, the gravity of the situation not lost on him in the least. "Mystique?" 

"No, I don't believe so. This does not fit her modus operandi, nor have I known her to contract out when she is perfectly capable of making an attempt herself." 

At last Storm spoke quietly into the silence, her measured tones brooking no argument. 

"I think then that we are wasting our time discussing what we do not know. Wolverine, follow that car. It will be abandoned somewhere nearby, but there may be witnesses to ask where the driver went. I will pay a visit to the school to ensure we are indeed not victim to Mystique's plans. Professor, the children will be returning soon, it will be best if you explain to them what has happened so they may help us look." 

With both men watching her, she turned and walked inside. But as her eyes looked upon the stairs as she went towards her rooms, her mind saw red on black eyes and the winning smile of Jean Luc LeBeau on a young man's face. 

Remy. 


	4. Part 4

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Continuity** Er .. some time after Rogue joined up with the X-Men? Really, I have no idea. I've seen only some of the first series and none of the second. Sorry if things aren't right ... 

"Um ... Ms Darkholme?" Abigail's voice crackled tentatively over the intercom. Interrupting the Principle was never taken well and the snapped reply a moment later proved her original inclination to just tell the visitor to come back later correct. 

"This had better be important Abigail" 

Abigail looked up through her bangs at the elegant woman waiting patiently before her desk who was brushing imaginary dust from the cuffs of her flowingly refined tan dress. "Ms Ororo Monroe to see you. She said you would be expecting her." 

There was a long pause, then the voice replied, bled of all emphasis. "Show her in." 

Ororo gave a graceful nod and a pleasant smile to the nervous women who hesitated as she stood halfway from her seat. 

"I can show myself in. Thank you Abigail" 

With a relieved, if tentative, smile Abigail sat down and, once the woman had stepped into the office, resumed circling the wanted ads in the paper. 

Ororo studied the closed expression of the woman sat behind the office desk as she gently pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click. There was a flat hardness to the eyes and a tightness to the features, a readiness to strike. But it was the trace of curiosity that held the woman back, she suspected. It seemed Mystique had not been expecting a visit from a lone X-Man, let alone one wearing a serene and almost friendly smile. 

Confusion to her enemies seemed the best approach, so she decided to keep the woman further off balance still, taking the seat before the desk and relaxing into it. "Good afternoon Raven. I see you've moved offices ... what on earth happened to the last one?" 

The flinch was slight, but evident, while the answer was off-hand; as if explaining the unfortunate case of wood rot in a floorboard, rather than the fact her office had been reduced to matchstick sized pieces. "We had a break in, the thief used unnecessarily violent methods. Thankfully no one was hurt. I sent my students to warn you that the thief may target the Institution next, but they were shown the door. I do hope nothing has happened." 

The purring insincerity in the woman's words froze Ororo's smile for a moment, but she gave a fluid shrug. "Have you ... identified the thief?" 

The deepening curiousity in Mystique's expression told her the hesitance in her question has been noted. 

"Why no, not yet. Although, rest assured, it is only a matter of time. Do you have any suspicions as to whom the culprit is? Not the thief, he is clearly a hired tool." 

At that Storm shook her head, genuinely puzzled about this herself. She couldn't imagine Jean-Luc allowing anyone in his guild, let alone his son, to take on such a job. It could be nothing but detrimental to mutants, and Jean-Luc was an intelligent man. "No, we have been unable to narrow the field of suspects a great deal thus far." Her smile flashed bright and as insincere as the other's for a moment. "It is only a matter of time." 

They had taken the battle into words, both were feinting and parrying as if it was their bodies they fought with. Her advantage was lost since Darkholme had been given the slight opportunity to form a plan. Perhaps this confrontation had been less advantageous than she had first thought. Still, for all her doubting the woman told the entire truth, it seemed they had both fallen victim. Raven seemed to find the contents of the folder before her intensely interesting for a moment, then spoke without looking up. 

"As we have verified neither of our factions is responsible for this embarrassing debacle, perhaps a temporary alliance is in order. We will pursue the thief, if you will look for whomever is pulling his strings" 

That was the last thing she wanted, but forced her tone to remain as calm, even honest, as she could. "I think that those roles may be best reversed. Wolverine is even now following the thief's trail, whereas I am sure your connections are most suited to uncovering those behind him." 

Raven raised her eyes, not bothering to disguise the almost amused but keen interest in them. Storm met them without blinking. This was just a part of the verbal sparring. Both knew the other was hiding information; neither could pry without becoming subject to their own examination. A stalemate. After a moment, the other woman looked back at her folder of test papers. 

"Very well." 

Silence descended heavily for a moment, then Ororo stood, marshalling her emotions under a control more tenuous than most suspected. Hand on the door, she paused and spoke without turning. "Your son is well." The silence was more pointed, almost tangible, a presence of it's own. She allowed herself a smile and walked out, closing the door just as quietly as she had when she entered. 

  
The kid's getaway car had been abandoned a few kilometres from New York, the trail going cold as soon as he followed it into the smoke filled bar on the sidewalk a block down. It was quiet, save for the faint background buzz of a faulty fan. The tables and chairs all bore scars from use as they were intended and ,judging from the rough and ready looking bar-flies eyeing him as he came in, from no few bar fights as well. It was a dive that smelt of booze, puke, cigarettes and depression. Not necessarily in that order. 

After a few moments all eyes turned from him, but no conversation took place. Each of the men, not a woman in sight, was on his own save for a drink before him. Only the barman watched his progress across the floor, the rag he was using on a glass less cleaning than moving the grime around. His boots sounded loud on the plank flooring, an accompanying beat to the whine of the air conditioner. 

He decided against leaning on the sticky looking bar, less from prudishness as simple disgust. The smells in this place were hell on his sensitive senses and he had a dark suspicion the punk had chosen this place for just that reason. 

The bartender was as greasy looking as his bar, middle aged and lips and fingers stained yellow from the cigarettes he seemed to chain smoke. But he watched Logan with a wariness that showed running a bar had given him an eye for the ones that could cause trouble. He could play this one of two ways, kind words or threats. Well, kind words might work once. 

"I'm lookin fer a kid that ran in here less than an hour ago. 'Bout six foot, thin, brown hair. Seen him?" 

The tender shook his head as he replied in a distinctly familiar accent. "Non, don' allow no chil'ren in here. Drink?" 

Logan kept his tone low, striving for calm even as a snarl entered his words. "Don't want a drink bub, I want the kid. I _know_ he came in here..." Now he did lean on the bar with both hands clawed on the wood, glaring up at the man and allowing just a hint of his fang teeth to show . "... and I'm askin _nice_ where he went. I only ask nice once." 

It took a moment, but the tender broke, sweating slightly and licking suddenly dry lips. The growl in the shorter man's words had spoken directly to the primal instinct within him, calling for him to find a fire to keep the beast at bay or, alternatively, give it what it wanted and hope it didn't feel peckish in the meantime. The $50 the kid had given him would not cover the damage to himself or his bar this ... man ... was implying he would make. 

"Out th' back. 'Bout ten minutes ago" He pointed at an off-white door beside the bar, then resumed his glass smearing busily, keeping his attention on that alone. 

With a feral smile, Logan picked up speed over the door, but opening it as silently as he could. Voices were coming from the end of the dusk-darkened alleyway outside. One he recognised as the thief's, the other was lower pitched and oddly accented, but clipped and precise. The air was tinged with ozone, already being lost in the reek of rotting garbage. 

" ... so, you jus' gonna hand ove' your files? Mind if I ask why homme?" 

"Because I am not as stupid as either you or your contractor seem to give me credit for. If they are so desperate for information on my Marauders they may have it, without risk to my laboratory from your atrocious habit of creating property damage wherever you go. In return, I expect to be given the details of the information already appropriated." 

The outline of the thief's figure, slight in comparison to the massive height and bulk of his companion, gave a shrug. "Expect what y' wan' M'sieur Essex, I ain' in no place t' promise you anyt'in'" 

"No, you are not. But if your employers have a spark of sentient intelligence, they will realise it is in their interests to keep me on their side. Just deliver the message thief." 

Essex lifted his hand palm out and the alleyway was flooded with the scent of ozone once more as a shimmering apparition the size of a large door flickered into existence. Without looking back the suddenly illuminated figure stepped into it and disappeared. The portal was gone a second later, leaving only the twilight of the near set sun. Logan didn't need his heightened hearing to pick up a distinctly relieved exhalation of breath from his prey, nor the muttered words. 

"What's a good cat'olic boy like you doin' dealin' wit' devils Remy? Oh yeah ... money" 

Standing from his crouch by the door, he stepped towards the kid as he was quickly putting the folder and disks he had been given into a black rucksack. The thief's back was to him, and he knew he hadn't made a sound. Even so the young man stiffened and then turned quick as a snake, bringing up those damn fire cracker cards. 

With a roar, Wolverine leapt, claws flashing in the light of the new moon. 

  
Professor Xavier looked at the worried faces of his students before him and tried to project the very image of an adult in complete control of the situation. It was a cheap ploy, his conscience argued, but it seemed to work, even on Scott and Jean. They relaxed at his calm smile, trusting his ability to make everything right once more. 

"At this moment, Wolverine is tracking down our visitor and may well have retrieved the documents already. Storm is visiting Mystique to see if the office explosion was related, or whether she was behind this intrusion. However, I feel this would be an excellent opportunity for you to practise more covert operations. When Storm returns, she will drive all of you into New York for the weekend in an effort to stake out areas the thief is likely to hit on the Saturday. The Sunday, however, is yours. You will be leaving in an hour." 

He met Scott's faintly suspicious gaze blandly, willing the student not to point out this exercise held no real purpose beyond getting them away from the mansion and forcing them to keep a low profile. To his relief, the young man simply gave a slight nod with a calculating expression and a lightly sardonic smile. He didn't think he could be prouder in that moment, but none of that showed as he went on over the suddenly excited chatter of the younger pupils. 

"Scott will be in charge of this training mission, Storm will be with you in a supervisory capacity only. Should you spot anything unusual, you are to contact her immediately with your com badges. Does anyone have any questions?" 

A chorus of various replies in the negative was his only response and he couldn't restrain a chuckle as he shooed them off to pack. Only Scott hung back, resisting Jean's efforts to tug him towards an exciting exploration into the world of helping a woman choose clothing for a weekend in New York. Crossing his arms, he waited until the room was clear save for himself and the Professor to speak. 

"This isn't just an exercise, is it sir?" 

This time Xavier didn't hide the proud smile, even as his reply took on a regretful note. 

"No Scott, it isn't." Studying the boy's, no, young man's resolute posture for a moment, he chose to give him the truth. "I honestly have no idea whether Logan will find the thief. Even if he does, we have no guarantee that he will find the files with him. It is imperative that, until this situation is resolved, you and Ororo keep the others as hidden as possible." 

Silence filled the warm room for a moment, a comfortable respite as Scott thought. "What do I tell them if this isn't ... resolved ... by the end of the weekend?" 

"Then we will tell them the truth." 

"What _is_ the truth sir? What was on those files?" 

"The complete details on every person in this Institute. Your strengths and potentials, your weaknesses, your habits. Every detail of your lives since enrolling here." 

Disbelief warred with anger in the young man's tone as he took this in. "_What?_ Why? And why on file? What's wrong with a computer?" Clearly, he desperately wanted to believe the man he looked upon as a teacher and surrogate parent had an excellent reason for creating documents so easily stolen, but he couldn't think of one. 

"Because the files ensure, in the event of anything happening to myself, that you and your education are harmed in no way, for the first part." He kept his tone reasonable, hoping the same trick would work twice, or at least not infuriate the adolescent further. "And any computer can be hacked. _Any_ computer. There are mutants with the ability to take information from a stand-alone machine. I had thought hard copy files in a location only I knew of to be the safest place possible. Clearly, I was wrong." 

Again there was a long moment of silence, this time an accusing one as Scott attempted to master the anger and betrayal he was feeling. Logic was on Xavier's side, but cold logic often had no place in the upset minds of the young, even those as remarkable as his students. Finally there was a reply in a tight, but studiously polite, tone. 

"I can see your point sir, have you discovered who could have known about the files?" 

"No one other than myself. Believe me, this is something I will be looking into while you have the others safely out of the area." 

Jean's voice floated into the room, still bubbly with the excitement of the weekend spent in the city. "Slim?" 

"I'm just coming Jean ... Professor Xavier was just telling me he was forwarding us all two weeks worth of allowance for the trip." 

Her happy laughter, along with Kitty's, greeted his words as Xavier conceded the move with a nod. "Go and pack Scott, I'll see you all before you leave." 


	5. Part 5

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  


The bar's private alleyway had become a scorched war-zone, the trashcans over turned and the bricks baring long gouges where Wolverine's claws had come within inches of taking a piece out of the thief's hide. Now the two combatants circled each other in the tight confines of the area. Too up close and personal for Gambit to charge his cards without risk to himself and so confined that either's agility was severely hampered. Instead they had been toe-to-toe, adamantium claws against what Logan had swiftly realised to be an adamantium bo staff, whirled in almost non-stop offence or defence with an almost casual mastery. 

But Logan was built to endure and outlast, and his opponent was almost imperceptivity slowing after the ten minutes he estimated they had spent trading blows. It would have been over quicker if he'd had the intention to actually hurt the guy, but pulling his claws at the last moment away from lethality was making his work difficult. 

"The cops are gonna be here soon bub, I'm guessin' you'd prefer to come with me rather than them. Make this easy on yourself." 

Beneath the smudges from the first tumble into the dirt he'd taken, Remy gave a wide smile, trying to ignore his protesting and abused muscles, internally berating himself for being so stupid as to let himself be trapped in a space with only one real way out. Not a mistake he intended to make again if he could help it. 

"I t'ought dis was th' easy way, mon ami, you not..." 

He fell silent as Logan's com badge flashed red, the other man tapping it on slowly without taking his eyes from the prey he'd finally managed to corner. The others gaze was roaming constantly looking for an opening, just waiting for a lapse in alertness. 

"This better be good." 

Ororo's voice was slightly tinny, but audible. "We have arrived in New York Logan, have you found the thief?" 

Remy eased himself into a position to leap, waiting until Logan tilted his head just slightly to reply, then making a fast break to the side. As a pair of arms caught him at chest height and pinned his arms, he knew he wasn't fast enough. He was thrown roughly back into the wall, unable to cushion his head before it struck the brick. Suddenly his body had no interest at all in obeying him, he heard rather than felt his staff leave his fingers and clatter to the concrete. Wolverine's weight pinned him effectively, and the man's voice came from far away as his world contracted to oblivion. 

"Yeah, I found him 'ro." 

  
He hadn't thought his head could feel any worse than it did when it was so intimately introduced to the wall, but rapidly discovered waking up to be a more painful place as what appeared to be most of the muscles in his body ganged up with an intense headache to make themselves known. There was something damp at his lips, he tightened them against it reflexively. Never eat or drink anything you haven't seen prepared was less a rule than a survival tactic when your family rivalled the Assassin's Guild in a city. 

A soft, southern accented, voice speaking above him dragged him further into consciousness, a land he was feeling less and less like visiting. Especially as he began to piece together the last moments before the world went black. 

"Ah think he's wakin' up. But he isn't drinkin'. I reckon yuh hit him too hard Logan." 

Without opening his eyes, he slowed his breathing, trying to affect sleep. Despite the pain of his head spatial senses began to function once more. There was a figure moving at his left side, carrying something that flowed gently in her hand. The femme with the drink. Beyond her was another, and one more just entering his field of awareness. 

The gruff tones of Wolverine intruded on his attempt to discover, without moving, if anything held him against the soft surface he was lying on. 

"You're good enough at playin' possum Cajun, but you ain't foolin' me. Your heart rate's up, and there's nuthin' you can do about that." 

With a slightly aggrieved sigh, he gingerly opened his eyes a crack. The room was low lit enough to open them further and he turned what he hoped was a sardonic gaze to the figure sat in a chair a few feet from the bed an attempt to move his hands told him he was strapped to at the shoulders, waist and feet. 

"Handy dat hearin' you got dere ... it make up fo' bein' so slow?" 

Even in his current predicament, he gave a smile at the flash of anger in Wolverine's eyes in response to the arrogant flippancy in his tone, then turned his head quickly at a lightly reproving tap to his pinned wrist on the right of the bed. Too quickly for his head, through the bright flashes of light the sudden movement created in his vision he finally made out the figure of the woman he'd knocked out of the sky. She was smiling almost regretfully; an expression he felt didn't suit her. 

"Remy, do not anger us. It will serve you no purpose." 

Storm watched apprehensively as their guest's features blanked completely at the use of his given name, then took on an almost cagey cast even as he replied with the smooth charm in his tone she had half expected. 

"You have my name, you be givin' me th' pleasure of yours, hein?" 

That did surprise her, he had seemed to have anticipated them enough he had been given information on their abilities, but apparently there had been no names. That she filed away for further thought as she took a seat on the bed by his side, leaning over a touch so he had no need to crane his doubtless aching neck to see her. 

"I am Ororo Monroe, the gentleman on the chair is Logan, the young lady who attempted to give you the water is named Rogue. She has been monitoring your condition, it seems Wolverine may have hit you a little harder than he intended." 

"Some people should just learn t' ask nice if they want a body t' cooperate. If I ask nice, y' let me up?" 

Her hand was half way to the restraints as his wrists before Logan caught it in his paw, leaning over the bed and levelling a glare at Remy. 

"I don't know what you're doing punk, but you stop it now unless you got a likin' for being knocked out." 

Remy almost ground his teeth in frustration, the weather witch had been so responsive to the suggestion in his tone and expression, it appeared Logan very definitely was not. Barely moving his head, he gave a nod and acquiesced, releasing the strand of what he thought of as his 'charm' from it's hold on her. 

"D' ccord" 

Storm blinked once, slowly, as a lethargy she had not noticed creeping over her disappeared and she sat down once more, and then hardened her expression. This was not the boy-child she had met in her youth; there was a physical resemblance in the very appealing features, but nothing more. After a slight smile of thanks to her intervener, she returned her attention to the figure on the bed. 

"Logan, would you please go with Rogue and fetch bottled water. He will not drink anything else, and I think he may be dehydrated. Also, the cut on his head should be properly seen to as well, bandages and antiseptic please." 

Rogue had been lingering near the door, unsure whether she was needed or not, but curious enough to remain quiet and simply watch the proceedings. She had been out watching a townhouse with Kitty and Evan when they had all received the recall over their com badges. The thief had been bought in just after they had returned, half conscious and muttering disjointedly in a mixture of French and English. As she had been closest, she had been the one to help make him comfortable and somehow failed to leave his side since. It was almost with a physical pang she left him now, following an obviously unhappy Wolverine from the room. She shut the door behind her on Storms half whispered words. 

"I have not contacted your father..." 

As they were left alone, Ororo saw for the first time a spark of rage in the young man's eyes, he nearly hissed his words to her. 

"You be leavin' mon pere out of dis, it none of his concern. You deal wit' Gambit, an' jus' Gambit" 

She nodded slightly, indeed he was old enough to be making his own decisions, however poorly chosen, and taking his own repercussions. This seemed to abate his anger, he returned to hiding his thoughts behind a remarkably accomplished poker face for one who could not be older than seventeen, at most. There was time for considering how he became so practiced later, at this moment she required information. 

"I have no intention of calling Jean-Luc, yet. But you must concede you have been caught and it is now in your best interests to tell us what you have been stealing, and for whom." 

"I concede I been temporarily apprehended chere, but dat not goin' t' last." He gave her an almost smug grin. "Seein' as you know so much 'bout who I am an' where I come from, you got t' know you won' be able t' hold me fo' long. An' th' police not be able to keep me at all" 

Now it was her turn to smile and give a careless shrug. "I believe we can hold you for as long as we need. There is a telepath in the next room more than able to extract what you must tell us from your mind should you decide not to cooperate." Of course, she, nor Jean, would ever consider such a thing. It was doubtful even that the young woman _could_ do such a thing. But from the suddenly haunted shadow in Remy's eyes, he believed they most certainly would. And even with that knowledge, the brazenness quickly covered the fleeting emotion. 

"Ain' a t'ing I can tell y' dat'd help y'. All th' files gone, and I don't know the name of the ones I workin' fo'. So if y' girl wan' t' try her luck wit' my mind, she welcome." 

"We may indeed reach that point, but anything you tell me willingly will make this easier on you. Wolverine saw you putting the files in the bag, why is it empty now?" 

He tried to shrug, but gave up in the face of restraints tight enough he had enough trouble taking a deep breath, a careless belligerence still heavy in his tone. "Who knows? Not you … an' you won' know from me" 

The sense of loss filled her again as she looked down at this stranger whom she had considered a friend a decade before. Clearly he did not remember her, and she had been too busy to give much thought to the one she had been encouraged to look upon as a brother while she had been given shelter by the LeBeau clan. Hints of the wild but exuberant child fresh from the streets were within him still, and it was very nearly exasperating not to be able to connect with them. 

From his suddenly uncertain expression, it seemed she may have reached him after all. 

"Why y' so sad M'moiselle Monroe? Angry I get' ... but Remy jus' a t'ief, no reason t' feel bad fo' him" 

Hearing Logan and Rogue's return to the hotel suit they had rented for the duration of their stay she stood, unable to help giving a feather light kiss to his forehead before turning towards the door speaking quietly. 

"I am sad because once you called me Stormy." 

He watched her leave, frowning as vague memories swam for a moment, but dissipated as soon as he was aware of them. They didn't matter, what mattered was the fact he had been left alone and conscious. What were they thinking? 

Nightcrawler was the first to notice the traces of smoke in the air, teleporting into the room of their unwilling guest with a half cry of warning a moment before the door blew out in palm-sized pieces. 

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Um ... let me know if I'm going a little heavy on Gambit's accent *g* Sorry for a bit of a filler chapter ... 


	6. Part 6

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


Nightcrawler lay in an unconscious heap against the smoking remnants of the doorframe; the bed had been practically vaporized, the window blown out. Of the thief, there was no sign. Jean's quick reactions and the telekinetic wall she managed to build had stopped most of the jagged splinters of wood from hitting those who gathered around the young man now, and Cyclops' optic blasts had disintegrated the rest of the larger ones that had managed to get through. 

Kitty knelt beside the crumpled figure of Kurt and held his fuzzy hand as Storm checked him for any obvious signs of injury. She could find nothing that suggested broken bones or internal trauma; the concussive force of the explosion that had made the bedroom into so much smoking debris had simply knocked out the boy, as well as burning pieces of tinder scorching his fur. Superficial damage, but damage nonetheless. Something she had not thought Remy truly capable of in cold blood against another being. Until now. The force he had charged the room with had been intended to maim anyone in the vicinity; of that there could be no doubt. It was just a miracle he himself had escaped before the explosion had taken him with it. 

A groan signalled Nightcrawler's return to consciousness, and the small group backed away to give him some air as he sat up, carefully, obvious nausea at the movement crossing his expression, then coming right back to settle there for the long haul. 

"Gott im Himmel ... do not give me the number of that truck. Just make sure it never hits me again." 

Kitty finally realised she was still holding Nightcrawler's hand when he attempted to lift it from her hold to give a tentative touch to the bruise on his forehead, a rapidly darkening spot visible even under the blur fur. With a blush she released her grip, at least he hadn't noticed. A quick glance around assured her no one else had either, although Rogue's smile of relief turned just a little too innocent when she caught her gaze. 

Before she had decided whether she would be taunted mercilessly later or not, Evan called from the window. He was battling the shredded hotel curtains that snapped at him in the gaping hole and yelling against the wind that snatched the words from his mouth as soon as he spoke, spilling them over the city. 

"Can't see him, but there's a couple of squad cars coming in. Probably don't want to sell us no tickets to the Policeman's Ball either" 

Logan looked up to the woman in charge from where he was holding up fingers before the probably concussed Nightcrawler's unfocussed eyes. "Elf's not with it 'ro. And I got no yearnin' to be explaining this to the cops. Looks like his image tranducer took a hit too." He pointed to the watch, crispy fried and showing wires. "Whadda we do?" 

With a sigh, Storms drew her eyes back from the window and glanced at the faces of the X-Men, turned towards her, waiting for orders. Professor Xavier would have been proud, she noted absently, to see his students without panic in the face of the suddenly dire turn the situation had taken. 

"Wolverine, take Nightcrawler and Shadowcat with Cyclops and Jean and find us a new location to make a base of operations. Rogue and Spyke, you will accompany me to find Gambit. I suggest we leave now" 

Scott aided Wolverine in holding the staggering Kurt between them, Kitty hanging back and wincing to note his singed tale, the hairs burned away enough to show light blue skin beneath it that looked decidedly raw. With the comforting thought of the many words and no few punches she was going to lay on the thief when they caught up on him, she followed the group out. 

Jean led the way down the service stairs as the fire alarms finally began to ring for the building to be evacuated. Hands at her temples in an unconscious mimic of her teacher, she was doing her best to convince the wide eyed staff they passed on the way down that they were seeing nothing more than a group of workers, and very certainly not a group of costumed superheroes carrying a blue demon. 

It was made easier by the fact this was what those they passed expected, and wanted, to see. But the sheer numbers were more than she'd ever tried to hold against before. Sweat began to bead under her fingers and she could taste the salt on her lips. Her control was faltering, this wasn't something she was practised in and the fear she would slip was only speeding the shattering of the illusion. 

And then with a cool, almost icy, rush she felt an unfamiliar presence step into her shields as if they were nothing and bolster her suggestion. Her steps faltered for a moment as she looked around wildly, completely losing the effect, happily on a stretch of stairs currently empty save for them. 

"Jean?!" 

They had stopped when she stumbled, catching herself on the rail to keep from hitting the next floor the hard way. Logan and Kitty looked at her with worried curiosity, but it was Scott who had spoken with concern. 

"Nothing ... it's nothing. Sorry." With an effort, she pieced together the illusion once more, not sure whether to be pleased the presence of another's strength of mind was there to aid her, or not. But control was easier this time; all she has to do was think of the picture while the other drew it. 

They stepped out into the street and quietly began to slip through the small crowd that had gathered outside, there was a sudden collective gasp and Jean followed their gazes. From a still smoking window, three figures emerged, born aloft and over the city as Storm called on the forces of the air to take the hunting party from the scene. 

"Muties. 'S always the damn muties. Should lock 'em all up and throw away the key." 

Almost against her will, Jean looked towards the voice that had spoken with so much vehemence and venom, apparently to no one in particular. It was a blue suited man, gawking with the rest, smirking in superiority. He looks like an ambulance chasing lawyer maybe, or a petty bureaucrat. The cut of his suit wasn't off the rack, and his thinning hair was so obviously dyed to hide the grey the Highschooler in her wanted to giggle. But the X-Man wanted to answer him, object, some how reason with the prejudice. But the murmurings of the crowd agreed with him and then Logan's hand was on her shoulder. 

C'mon Red, this is going to be a long night and it ain't gettin' no shorter hanging with the brainless." 

She nodded unhappily, catching the expression on Scott and Kitty's faces that Logan did such a job of hiding. They were as upset as she. The mansion life had sheltered them for the most part, and now New York City was showing them just what other mutants faced every day. Not forever, she promised the persecuted silently, it won't be forever. 

With a fleeting brush over her psyche, the presence left her mind and she followed the others into the back streets while the crowd's attention still remained fixed on the diversion Storm had created for them to escape undetected in. 

Except for one pair of confused and bespectacled eyes that ignored the sensation in the sky and followed the figures struggling to slip away. With a thoughtful frown, Abigail took note as the Bayville students she recognised under the flickering illusion of hotel workers quickly headed into the shadows of the alleyways. Maybe New York was too close, that interview with the Highschool in Washington suddenly seemed tempting. 

  
They had lost the eyes of the crowd quickly, but it had bought them no lucky sign of the thief at all on the way over. Gently, Storm set herself and her charges down on an office block rooftop and shook her head. 

Evan walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the bustling main street below. "We're never gonna find him." He turned, still standing so carelessly on the edge Rogue wanted to haul him away. But Storm seemed unperturbed, so she fidgeted and rubbed her arms against the chill breeze who's passage was unrestrained by the lack of buildings, bringing in the winter with all it's force. 

"Well, can we guess where he'd go?" 

When they turned to look at her, she immediately shrunk back; not from shyness but battling the little voice in her head telling her she had no business with them, let alone in helping. But she grit her teeth, she had her own reasons for wanting to find the young man. He'd done something, she could feel it, and the empty sensation since she'd left his presence was not natural. She wanted it gone. Now. But the thought of having to explain this was worse than the feeling, so she just went on. 

"Ah mean, yuh seem to know him Ms Monroe...?" 

The reply was clipped. "Not anymore." Tempering her tone, Storm went on "I cannot tell where he will go, or what he will do. Our only hope is to find him and extract the information we need." Her brow furrowed as she considered, trying to think of his possible avenues of escape. And he would have planned them, he was trained to have a response for every contingency he might encounter, hiding from those who might catch him would be high on the list. 

With a degree of certainty, she continued. "He will not have left the city, I do not believe. There are a finite number of ways out, but an almost infinite number of places to hide within it." 

Spyke snorted and resumed his viewing of the street below while his aunt thought aloud, enjoying the rush of the duel sensations of such height and vague dizziness. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rogue watching him furtively, and he grinned, inching even closer to the edge as she blanched slightly at his actions. 

"A bar was his refuge last time, but I doubt he will try that again." As she spoke, Ororo was desperately trying to ignore her nephew's actions. It was important to define the role she played as an effective Team Leader, not allowing it to blur with her concerns as his relative. Even so, she winced as he took another inch, toes nearly handing over the drop. That was quite enough. "Spyke, if you do not move back this instant, I will move you back." 

With a shrug he complied, moving to stand beside Rogue. "Yes ... aunt." 

It was an effort to calm herself, temper the frustration and anger she was feeling at the days events, feeling the elements of nature shifting themselves minutely to her mood. That could not be allowed. Eyes closed, she sought peace, and found it as she pictured the garden she tended so carefully. 

"I have decided our course of action. It is not without risk, but will be more productive than searching a city of this size." 

Rogue allowed her curiosity to show as she took a step closer to Storm, the easier for the other woman to lift them all one more. "Where we goin'?" 

"To find a telephone" The ex-member of the Cairo Guild of Thieves smiled faintly as she took the three of them above the city once more "I wish to phone a friend." 

  
Ensconced in the master chair before a roaring fire, claret in an exquisite crystal glass in one hand and finely rolled cigar in the other, a man smiled. Through the bay window across the room he could see the panorama of New York City, lit up so brightly against a night filled with the promise of ice come morning. The door opening quietly interrupted his viewing, soft footfalls across the plush carpet and a light aroma of a dusky perfume. 

"Good evening my dear, you come with news?" 

The woman stopped behind the chair, resting one hand lightly upon it and speaking with a quiet amusement. 

"All the files have been retrieved, although our thief has had a decidedly spectacular way of gaining them." 

"Excellent. And all parties are unaware of our involvement?" He ran a finger along the top of the glass, making the crystal sing a long note to accompany his associate's answer. 

"I detected nothing to suggest they are. One group of X-Men were almost in danger of being arrested, but I insured they escaped" 

The note died away and Sebastian Shaw stood, his considerable stature almost dwarfing the woman dressed entirely in white that he turned slowly from the window to face. "Then I believe we may begin phase two." 

The White Queen nodded and turned back towards the door. 

"Then it begins." 

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Sorry this took such a long time to get done for those who've been reading. Hopefully the next chapter will be out much quicker :) 

Note : "Gott im Himmel" - "God in Heaven" 


	7. Part 7

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


Toad wasn't having a good night. On the mental black list he carried, it was ranking somewhere around the kind of night he'd had when his hot date with Mary-Sue Patterson had turned into a hot date with three of her brothers and their stink bombs while she laughed in the background so hard she fell into a rosebush. He'd been beaten long and hard when her parents had told his old man he'd pushed her. 

It wasn't as bad as the night he'd first discovered green slime dripping from his tongue, which was considerably better than the one when he managed to avoid getting hit by Storm's lightning by less than an inch and still carried the white streak on his side where the remnants of electricity had marked him anyway. But, on the scale, bounding through Bayville with it's long shadows and poor streetlights with something he couldn't see hot on his tail, people screaming and cars screeching, it was rapidly earning it's place in the top three. 

He didn't want to turn around, he couldn't turn around. If he did, it would catch him. It would be so terrifying and monstrous, he'd fall dead from the sight of it. Just how he knew that didn't cross his mind, terror began to swamp him and he was going so very slowly, it was like some nightmare. 

As the boy thrashed and squirmed in his gunky sheets, a man stood besides the bed and watched, fiddling the lace cuffs of his shirt and smoothing the dark suede of his jacket, waiting until the mind he held hostage awoke. His captive was muttering in a fear filled voice. "Gotta run, gotta run, gotta run ..." It wouldn't be long now. 

With a choked off scream that became a hoarse gasp of breath, Todd sat up in the bed. He had tripped, he remembered tripping, but he had to move and run and run and ... a man urgently held his hand towards him. He had muscles in places other people didn't even have places, and a really, really big gun. Nice gun. Good gun. "C'mon kid, it's ok, come with me." 

Asking no questions, practically clutching to his kidnapper, Todd was taken to the car he saw as a tank and thrown in the back. Miserably he curled into the corner and stared out at scenery that wasn't there, gibbering to a rescuer that didn't exist. Sitting in the front of the limousine, the man smiled and picked up the archaic twenties phone attached to the dashboard. The town was left behind them as they headed for the bright lights of New York City. 

"I have my catch Shaw. The files were correct; his mind was easily to take. Goddawful smell though" 

Distorted by static interferance and bearing no hint of congratulations, the reply of the Black King of the Hellfire Club mocked the other's self satisfied tone. "You haven't bought him in yet Wyngarde, he has been trained by Mystique, do not underestimate him." 

Jason Wyngarde grit his teeth against the words he wanted to say and was duly pleased that his voice remained smooth and confident. "Of course not, that goes without saying. Have the others bought their catch in yet, or will I be the first?" 

Grudgingly Shaw came back to him. "You are the first to report a catch, but the prize isn't yours yet." Then the line became a buzz of disconnection and the self styled Master of Illusion smiled as he settled back in his seat. The whimpering conversation of Toad he replied to tersely, until finally convincing the young man to sleep away the journey. 

  
Kitty fought the urge to cover her nose with her hand when they entered the only motel room they'd been able to find before Jean had given warning that her illusions were running on fumes. It was a dive, but only because she couldn't think of worse words to describe it.. A solitary, naked, light bulb hung on the ceiling, casting a low wattage, nicotine yellow sheen over pealing green wallpaper. A single bed, threadbare covers with dubious stains, carpeting that was thin and torn in several places. And a chair that looked like it had been built as some kind of insidious death trap by an unhinged mind. She was pretty sure she'd heard about the Fantastic Four fighting something like this. Maybe it had escaped, and was lying low whilst plotting its next nefarious scheme. It occurred to her she maybe needed to sleep. Especially when the chair seemed to glare at her. 

"Uhm ... when I said I was tired enough to sleep in a trash can I, like, didn't mean it literally." 

She was ignored as Scott and Logan finally lay their burden down the bed. Kurt had been slipping in and out of consciousness, muttering mostly in German. But now he seemed to sleep, curling up with a little smile. 

"He'll be fine Kit, he ain't gonna fade away if you take ya eyes off him" 

Logan's words were gruffly amused, if reassuring, and she could already feel the blush heating her cheeks as she nonchalantly wandered over to the window, trying to pull the blinds down. "Oh, yeah. Like I was worried. I just wondered whether he needed all those covers, 'cause sleep would be nice sometime." 

Jean leant against the sticky and wobbly dresser as lightly as she could, allowing her mind to relax and recover. Scott hovered; she could sense his concern lingering in the ebbing bond she used to cover them all. It was nice, sort of sweet. She flashed him a reassuring smile and received one in return, the red glow behind his glasses intensifying for a moment. 

Silence descended, not awkward exactly, but what was there to say? After a moment, Kitty crossed to the chair and gingerly sat on the very edge. When she didn't go through it, she relaxed. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Scott watched a moth flutter around the light bulb. 

It was going to be a long night. 

  
Remy liked the city best when the sun went down. He liked the glare of the lights, the way the streets glinted underfoot as the rain reflected everything above it somehow cleaner than it was. He liked the shadows that held nothing in them he had to worry about, and the way they blurred everything, just a little. But the cold he could have lived without. It cut through his coat like it wasn't there, it was hard to stop himself huddling his arms around him to keep the heat in just a little. It was late, but he didn't want to sleep, didn't have anywhere to sleep. Couldn't have slept if his life had depended on it. Something about being the business end of a chase made it hard to settle. His lips quirked into a sardonic smile. It was just like old times. At least it wasn't Assassins after him. 

The temperature dropped further, but his thoughts were drifting on. Drifting south. To the warmth, and the life, that was New Orleans. He could practically smell Tante Matte's gumbo ... 

In hindsight, he figured he should have been watching the skies a little better. And, if he was going to think about it more, walking in the open was a very stupid thing to do. Sleep deprivation really wasn't much of an excuse. Only the sudden intrusion on his awareness of something heading in, and fast, gave him the warning to duck and roll. 

Storm pulled up sharply, ignoring the startled cries of the pedestrians who'd been treated to the sudden and unwanted appearance of an African Goddess in full fury. Lightening crackled around her as she dove in again, not giving her target the chance to reach for his cards, summoning the winds to knock him back. Back towards Evan and Rogue. 

Gambit felt the air leave his lungs as he was bowled over and landed hard, but he scrambled to his feet, trying to regroup in a hurry. Jerkily he tried to latch onto his Bo staff, but his movements felt sluggish, unco-ordinated, like the time he'd ... accidently ... drunk half a bottle of Henri's reserve port when he was thirteen. Somewhere he could hear laughter but everything was becoming molasses around him. In desperation he fell to his knees, searching for anything he could charge and throw, the gutters of New York didn't fail him. A soda can, flaming pink in an instant and he turned to throw it, all his concentration on not accidentally charging, say, a city block. 

Then a cool hand belonging to a body he hadn't felt the approach of clamped down on his wrist, he looked up into Rogue's wide and strangely alarmed eyes as vertigo hit. It felt like his soul was being wrenched in every direction, he was falling and flying. And then he … wasn't. His last thought was that being knocked out was becoming a bad habit he should really try to break. 

Rogue screamed as the ground beneath her began to glow. She flung the unconscious thief from her, losing herself in his powers and memories as he had lost himself in her. She could feel everything around her, something above that must be Storm, the movement of people running away, the lazy fidgeting of something small nearby, a rat maybe, or a cat. Too much information, and the glow spread. 

Far up the sky, Storm had not had even the chance to yell to Rogue, could only watch as she sought to end the fight her way. What had happened to Evan, she had no idea, she saw only the contact made, and heard the girl begin to shriek. As the glow began to spread further and faster, becoming a death sentence for anything touching it, she grit her teeth and called down the freeze winter was so willing to lend her. 

Thick and arctic, covering the ground faster than the stolen charge and the two forms at the centre of it, an ice age came to New York. The explosion, when it came, was a dull and muted thing, cracking it's container but not the buildings. A shudder ran through the earth as it protested the direction the blast had taken, and then all was still. One second, two, passed as the Windrider allowed herself to float wearily to the street, and then what sounded like every car alarm in New York shattered the silence. Then came the distant wail of police sirens, growing closer by the moment. There was no movement at all from Rogue or Gambit as she rushed to them, both covered in a thin layer of frost. 

Something told her it was going to be a long night. 

  
Spyke shouted, yelled, beat his fists against the wall. Then he kicked it, once or twice, for good measure. It didn't make any difference, and he'd been around telepaths long enough to know it wouldn't. The wall was in his mind, on every side he turned, and he was definitely on the wrong side of it. 

He'd seen Rogue run forward, just in time to abort his strike with his spikes and send them into the side of a car, rather than the side of an unlucky schoolmate and sometimes quiet ally in the prank wars against Kitty and Kurt. After that, it got a bit hazy. He had the sensation of movement now, but that might have been his own imagination getting to work. 

Emma Frost smiled as she pushed the stumblingly docile body that housed Evan into the back of her car with little more than some lightweight mental suggestion. She had her catch, and it had been easy too. Easy to take over the actions of Rogue, easy to slow the thief and almost insultingly easy to evade the weather witch. Honestly, what _was_ Xavier teaching his people? This was meant to be a challenge. 

Still, she smiled as she settled in the front seat, sending Evan to sleep with the mental equivalent of a hammer to the head. Picking up the ridiculous telephone that Shaw had insisted upon in each of the Club's limousines, she settled beside him. 

"Shaw? I have my catch. Am I the first?" 

His voice returned warmly, as it should to his Queen. 

"No, Wynegarde has his, but he hasn't returned yet. If you make due haste, you should be the first back" 

Without reply, she pressed the call end button and gently replaced the receiver, raising her voice to the driver as she glanced at the boy by her side. 

"Matthews? Due haste." 

The deep red limo slid into the traffic and she closed her eyes. She had no idea what prize Shaw had in mind when he had devised this little competition. But she would win it. The White Queen of the Hellfire Club always won. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

Erm, that was a bit quicker ... I think (Doesn't want to be an accessory to murder and usually caves instantly under pressure) The holidays are conspiring against me :( Prolly won't be another chapter till after New Year ... but thank you very much to everyone that's reviewed!! Have a great Christmas :) 


	8. Part 8

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


Through the grainy, green hued, monitor Shaw watched his so valued guests. They had settled to sitting on the bare floor of the holding room, facing each other, disheartened no doubt by their fruitless efforts at discovering a manner to escape. Their conversation came through the speakers, but he had long since stopped paying them any heed. After a while, bravado and threats of retaliation from voices not yet broken lost it's amusement, and both were diligently avoiding any mention of compatriots or who might come looking for them. Very noble, and of course quite pointless. 

His gaze turned to the folders before him. Dr. Ohn's research had been extraordinary, and Stark Enterprises had been short sighted indeed not to ensure that the good doctor's research assistant had been as adamant as the head of the corporation that all work on his project be discontinued. It had taken time, and considerable funding, but the portable inter-dimensional technology that had once almost sucked the city into black hole was proving invaluable. 

It was probably just as well he hadn't told the thief the bag he was carrying was in fact a small worm hole leading directly to it's twin in the vault of the Hellfire Club of course. His fees had been extortionate enough as it was, but when it was necessary to acquire skills outside those of the Inner Sanctum, the skills must be the best. And there was no better than a member of the Thieves Guild, even one considered ronin. 

A tint of sulphur in the air stilled his hand from its progress flipping through the files for just a moment, and then he continued as if he had noted nothing amiss. Only his eyes moved, rising to the window, the soft light and the darkness beyond making it a mirror. His reflection stared back at him with snapping eyes and behind it was the silhouette of another standing before a door that had not been opened. 

"Mr Shaw, I presume? I see you're finding my files of interest. How marvellous. I suggest we discuss them. In detail." 

The silhouette stepped forward, seeming less of a man as it did and more of a monster. A massive build, some sort of metallic blades jutting from the shoulders then bending at an angle down. The fire gave colour to the reflection, turning the black body into a dark grey sheen, the almost spider like extensions of the suit into dark purple. And in the centre of a forehead the colour of coroner's chalk, a red diamond nearly glowed in contrast. He was smiling, pointed teeth glinting. 

Shaw stood without haste and turned to face his guest, his smile showing just a hint of tooth. "Mr Sinister, yes? Or should I call you Dr Essex? Your files were most informative." 

"Well, I do my utmost to keep proper records. I am not, however, a library. I gave a selection of my files to your thief on the understanding I would be dealt into whatever game it is you are playing. As he is currently unable to deliver my ... request ... I decided it only proper to do so in person" 

The deep, English accented, voice was smooth, even congenial. And Shaw replied in kind. 

"My thief has been compromised? How unfortunate. Naturally I am willing to consider any proposition you have to make" 

"Your thief has been re-apprehended by the X-Men who are doubtless questioning him closely as we speak. And please do not lie to me Shaw, it's most tiresome. You are willing to consider nothing, you are simply buying time until the rather pathetic mental alert you just sent to your White Queen has the result of bringing in your soldiers. Needless to say, I intend for this to be a private meeting, so let us be gentlemen and speak plainly." 

For the first time Shaw began to worry. He knew little of Mr Sinister, certainly not that the man was a telepath capable of not only reading his thoughts, but also effectively cutting away his Queen. He schooled his expression into something more solemn and retook his seat, gesturing to its partner and replying as his guest sat easily on the chair offered. 

"Then speak plainly Dr Essex, but speak quickly. If my pawn has been taken as you say, I have measures to introduce to insure my game is not interrupted." 

  
He was cold, he was hungry, and he was pissed. But mostly, he was in no mood to listen to Tolensky any more. Half an hour on his own, half an hour waiting for Toad to get conscious once he was thrown in like some boneless piece of meat, half an hour of searching for any kind of way out of the room. And then the last two hours listening to him talk non-stop. 

"Quit moaning already! You've started repeating the people you're blaming for this, and I'm pretty sure Mary-Sue Patterson, who ever she is, had nothing to do with it!" 

Toad eyeballed his cellmate for a moment with suspicion. "How you know that? You know who'd got us here? " 

Evan just sounded tired as he replied to paranoia with a shrug and a shake of his head. "No, I still don't. But I'm figuring they're pretty heavy duty." He paused, looking around the barren room. No window, no beds or chairs, nothing but a locked door and a vent they'd already discovered was way too small to be making an escape through. "We'll make it out okay though." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know that." Todd stood and paced to the door, yelling as loud as he could. "And when we get out, we're gonna make you wish your parents never met that one time they did!" 

The same quiet that had met everything they'd hurled at the grey steel door so far was the only response. But Spyke had to grin as his temporary roomie retook his seat and resumed his rant. 

"It's probably them Friends of Humanity freaks ... yeah. They'd pull this. Or it's Mary-Sue Patterson." 

Toad was staring straight at him, then moving his gaze down to his own hands as he talked on. 

"I say you throw those things outta your arms at the first guy that comes through that door, then we high tail it out and get to taking some names. Maybe a bit of salting the earth on the side." 

Todd's hands moved, slowly, as low as he could get them. It took a moment, but their seemingly random flicking of fingers began to make sense. ASL alphabet, they'd had the class on it a month back. Who knew school would actually come in useful. For that matter, who knew Tolensky was even paying attention. He replied absently as he fixed on the letters being signed. C ... O ... M 

"I'm down with taking some names and light salting, but I ain't gonna spike no one to do it. They haven't hurt us any really." 

M ... U ...N ... I ... C ... A 

He looked up, guessing at the word and shook his head. His communicator had been gone when he'd woken. Toad scowled and threw another glance at the door, at last falling silent. Evan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, when something went down at least he could try and be rested for it. 

  
Lying on a comfortable mattress like surface, check. Restrained, check. Water held against lips, check. Any second now... 

"You're awake kid, I know it. Drink the water, it's bottled and if we wanted you dead trust me you would be." 

Angry guy with claws and a dislike of people playing possum, check. He sipped a small amount of the water before he turned his head to look at the man leaning against the wall, rolling an unlit cigar around his fingers. 

"Dis is startin' t' be a habit." 

He looked back to see the eyes of Rogue staring down at him, equal measures of anger, concern and guilt easy to see in the grey depths. Mind still foggy, he smiled. 

"Course, th' part of wakin' up t' the sight of a belle fille not a habit Remy in any rush t' break." 

She actually blushed, then pulled back from his restricted line of sight as she replied almost gruffly. "Ah'm bettin' you've got a lot of habits you should be breakin', swamp rat, guess yuh just don't know where to start." 

Another face, this one far less attractive, replaced Rogue's and Gambit's smile died on his lips, taking with it his retort. Wolverine, looking less than happy. Slowly fragments of his last conscious moments began to piece together, faster and faster until the last image imprinted on his mind was that of Rogue, wide eyed and pale with terror, burning with his powers and mouthing a name she shouldn't have known. How much more had she taken from his mind? 

"Mon Dieu ... " 

Wolverine shook his head. "Nope, not even close. How're you feelin'? Managed to get froze pretty good there." His tone seemed perfunctory rather than actually concerned, but Gambit attempted a shrug with what little movement he was allowed. It felt like they'd doubled up on what ever was holding him down, or maybe they'd just tucked in the comforter real tight. 

"Comme ci comme ca. Laissez les bon temps roulet." 

Logan smirked at the thief's sardonic tone. He had to hand it to the guy, it just hadn't been his weekend all told and still the smart ass was trying to brazen his way through. 

A voice piped up enthusiastically from the corner, a girl had been sitting so still Gambit hadn't even noticed her as a blip on his kinetic radar. "Can you, like, say that again and slower? And tell me which the verb is?" 

Craning his head up as far as he could, Remy looked over at the figure sitting on a chair about ready to collapse in the corner, some kind of open textbook balanced on her knee. The girl from the French class whose vent he had been a guest of. He laughed, he had to really, then threw his head back on the pillow. 

"Desolet petite, Remy got no time t' be teachin' y' French. Mebee later, neh?" 

"Wrong bub" Wolverine settled back next to the open window and lit a cigar. "You got all the time in the world, 'least until you decide to tell us exactly who you were working for." 

"I t'ink we did dis dance already mon ami, not tellin' you anythin'." 

"Kitty, Rogue, you go find Storm and the others and tell them he's awake and'll soon enough be talkin'. I'll let you know if we need anything." 

He heard the door open and shut, tracked the girl's motion as they left, but he was watching Logan. Angry he was used to, but the expressionless mask that had fallen over his current watcher's features was unsettling. "You can try anythin' y' want homme, Gambit can't tell y' no more'n he already has." 

Silence at the statement. A silence just begging to be filled as Logan dragged the chair closer to the bed and slowly took a seat. A cop's silence, and he knew better than to speak into it. Eventually the other man would, or they'd just sit staring at each other for a while. Maybe they could watch some paint dry while they were at it. 

"If you can't tell us anymore, you best start thinking of ways you can help. Whoever hired you has taken one of the kids and trust me, I will go through whoever I gotta to get him back. Right now, I'm willin' to deal. You help us find Evan and shut down whoever took him, we'll put in a good word for you with the cops." 

"That's your best deal? No go mon ami" Remy smirked, but he knew it didn't have the entirely confident edge to it that it usually held. And from Logan's expression, he knew that too. Suddenly he did feel the need to explain, the words coming out before he could stop them. "I didn't know 'bout no kidnappin' of chil'ren ..." 

Now the anger was back again as the X-Man stood, knocking the chair over unheeding behind him. "What the hell did you think was gonna be done with those files? You handed over those kids lives and you didn't even think about who to?" 

For the first time, Wolverine saw the young man flinch. It looked like there was some kind of conscience in there after all. Sometimes kind words and a 2' by 4' will get you further than just kind words. He was all out of kind words and the 2' by 4' was getting appealing as the thief just looked at him mutely for a moment. 

"Well, you just gonna stare at me, or you gonna do maybe the one good thing you've ever done and help us?" 

Betray a client, or betray one of the few morals he still abided by. Don't harm children. If he betrayed his client, word would get around and he might as well go to jail, he'd never be hired in the country again. Betray his morals ... and however much money he earned, he'd never buy back the part of his soul he'd bargained away. And the worse thing, the absolute worse thing, was that he had no one to blame but himself. 

"Got t' love dese lose - lose situations ... I help y'. But you so much as mention th' cops, and I'm gone, comprenez-vous?" 

Wolverine grinned as his claws came out with the wet sound of metal on flesh. After a moment to savour the uncertainty in the Cajun's eyes, he sliced through the ties. 

"And if you run out on us, you won't need to worry about the cops none at all, 'cause I'll beat them to you." 

  
Storm listened, staring abstractly at the cooling tea before her, as Rogue miserably tried to recall anything of importance from the hazy images and memories she had taken from her victim's mind. The diner was all but deserted, the hour was late, or as the clock on the wall informed her, very early. Only Scott still looked alert, but there was nowhere for the others to rest as Remy was occupying the hotel room. Kurt at least was conscious, if quiet. 

"Ah know he's real scared of somethin' tuh do with his powers and ah'm pretty sure he's tellin' the truth when he said he didn't know who hired him." The girl frowned and paused for a moment. "He didn't know what he was stealin' for, ah don't think he understands why we're so upset 'bout a buncha files. Like he ain't put two 'n two together that it'd be more dangerous for us than just havin' some data stolen. He just wanted the money. Ah kept seein' kids, little kids ah mean, and they look kinda hungry. And there's a girl fallin' off a tower or somethin'. He was real sad 'bout that, but I don't know why exactly. And a different girl with blonde hair he thinks of real well … and … a sword fight against some guy …" 

Her voice trailed away, then continued even more softly than it had. "Then his powers started goin' haywire in me, like yours did that time in the cemetery. It was like tryin' to hold back a piece of the sea." 

Ororo took a sip of her tepid tea. "I think that gives us something to go on Rogue, thank you. I know it's hard for you to touch on the memories you have absorbed." 

Rogue nodded and looked around the table, fidgeting with the paper napkin on the table before her. Scott spoke into the quiet. 

"If he was good enough to take all those files and be hired in the first place, he has to be good enough to trace it back and take us to Spyke, right?" 

For the first time Storm gave a slight smile. "I believe he is, convincing him to betray a client is the first problem however. Hopefully Logan is making some headway, our other avenues are rapidly closing. Even Raven and the Brotherhood have been unable to find any traces." 

She had been debating telling them of Raven's news, that Toad had also been kidnapped. It could do more harm than good at this point, to raise any fears that any one of them could be the next. But as they had said themselves after finding out Raven and Mystique were one and the same, they should be told the truth. 

"Todd Tolensky has also gone missing." 

Kurt spoke up this time, frowning slightly. "So this means they are after all of us, perhaps?" 

"It may do." 

"So, why not wait until they come to us, and ambush them?" 

Jean grinned and nodded, enlivening at a possible ray of hope that had been forced from a bad situation. "It's not like we don't have bait to come to us anyway, I bet they will want their thief and his bag back even if they don't want any more of us." 

This was something that Storm would not normally even entertain the idea of. But now it warranted at least consideration and she was doing so when the low buzz from her jacket pocket signalled Wolverine's communication. 

"Yes, Logan?" 

"We just got a break." 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= **Notes** 1) Comme ci comme ca = "so - so"  
2) Laissez les bon temps roulet = "Let the good times roll"  
3) Desolet = sorry  
4) Petite = Lit. "small" (female), also a good natured endearment. (Think "hon")  
5) comprenez-vous? = you understand? 


	9. Part 9

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


The sudden crackling of a speaker jerked him awake and to his feet, across the room he saw Toad blinking sleepily, slower to rise. It took a moment to work out exactly what the deep bassed voice was saying, or where the sound was even coming from, but the words began to filter through as sense. 

"... to the Hellfire Club gentlemen, I do hope your wait has been comfortable. You have been handpicked to take part in The Gauntlet. Regrettably there can be only one winner. That winner, however, will take their place as an acolyte of the Inner Circle. The loser ... will not. The door will open shortly, I wish you the best of luck." 

They stared at each, then as one turned their eyes to the door. It slowly swung inwards, a pale arc of light from their room lit the floor beyond for a foot and then all was dark. 

"Huh ... think they'd be upset if we just sat down again?" 

Without looking back to the tortured creaking of metal scraping on metal behind them, Evan nodded. "Yeah, and I don't think we get the option." 

"In that case, sorry man, but I wanna win." 

With a springing leap Toad bounded into the darkness beyond the door leaving Spyke in the dust, the back wall steadily moving towards him. 

  
"So, dey can't be found by th' best telepat' on the planet …" 

Without waiting for a reponse, Gambit held up the black file holder that had been returned to him, a little more abused now than when he had been given it at the start of the job. 

"Way I figure it is dis, the bag is some kinda teleportation t'ing. I put de files in, dey gone to whoever it is wants them so bad. Ain't no way big enough t' fit a body, but if y' got a tracker, mebee it drop right t' where th' files are, neh?" 

Gambit looked up from the bag to sight that was less than confidence inspiring. Everyone was gathered in the small motel room, having taken a seat where one could be found. Kurt was sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and snoring lightly. Kitty was beside him, head having fallen on his shoulder when she too succumbed to exhaustion. Scott and Jean sat on the edge of the bed; both were awake though the red head's eyes were drooping and her gaze was unfocussed. Even Storm had an edge of fatigue to her expression, greyness around the eyes from worry and tiredness. 

Only himself, Rogue and Wolverine were still fully awake. Rogue he suspected of being as much of a night owl as himself, the man on the other hand was clearly an inhuman freak. Not that he was bitter or anything. Rogue spoke softly, trying not to awaken the sleepers. 

"We could use a communicator and ask the Professor to track it with Cerebro." 

Storm nodded after a moment, watching the thief sat cross-legged on the floor before the bed. He had made no effort to escape, and had been nothing but courteous and polite, even if his expression darkened sullenly when Logan spoke directly to him. She could a dash of the child she had played with so long ago in the twinkle in his eye, the irresistible smile. But then would come the blank professionalism, as it was now. Oh, he was still studiously courteous, but the veneer of the Guild smothered the charm and hid the southern warmth. With a start, she realised she was being stared at expectantly by those not currently 'resting their eyes'. 

"I'm sorry, I think I was drifting. What did you say?" 

Logan's gravelly near whisper came from where he had been smoking by the window. "I said it might work, but we don't know for sure it won't just tell them we're gunning for them if someone's watching for anything that comes through the bag" 

Now Rogue spoke from the chair she had been in and out of for the last hour, pacing to the window and back whenever it was unoccupied, as though the skyline might give them some answers. "Do we have a choice, ah can't think of any other way." She looked down to Remy, faltering to see his unnatural eyes on her. She was nearly getting used to them, fascinating but far too easy to be drawn to and caught staring at. "Unless you changed your mind about finding who it was from your fixer?" 

The hint of accusation in her tone she didn't try and hide. She couldn't believe he had refused to do the simplest thing, ask the go between who the contractor had been. 

"I tol' y' chere, I not goin' t' get him involved in dis. It's not … it's … etiquette." 

Remy shot a pleading glance at Storm, she had been the only one to understand why he wouldn't back track his employer through his fixer, perhaps she could explain it better than he was able. The girl's anger and frustration was beginning to bother him, there very few people he didn't like to disappoint, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why she had joined those ranks. 

"If he does that, he is effectively betraying a fixer. A fixer becomes unemployable as once their reputation for anonymous dealing has been broken. Doubtless we could ask him to talk, we might even be able to make him talk, but we would be taking a living from him. And quite possibly his life with it if his employers discovered he had given their details to a fourth party." 

"What happens to a thief who breaks a deal with his employers?" 

Remy flashed her a disarming grin, cutting quickly across the reply that Storm had been about to make. "Den th' t'ief better have him a real good reason t' be doin' it. So, anyone got a communicator dey willin' t' sacrifice to a good cause?" 

His hand snapped up and caught the badge Logan threw from behind him, he didn't take his eyes off the bag, ignoring Rogue's frown as he effectively avoided her question. "Merci". 

Scott gently touched Jeans shoulder, her heavy eyes opened slowly as she came awake. "Oh! I'm sorry …" 

"No, it's fine, we just need you for a moment. Can you call the Professor? Tell him we're using Wolverine's Com Badge as a tracker to find Evan and probably Todd and we need it traced to where it goes?" 

She nodded once and placed her fingertips at her temples as she closed her eyes, the sensation of placing her mind for the moment on the astral plane enjoyable as it left the bone tired body behind it. Even so, she spoke aloud to aid her concentration, something that her teacher had been attempting to drill out of her in her recent lessons. 

"Professor?" 

A moment later she felt his solid presence meet her questing line of telepathy, sealing it against any eavesdroppers and bolstering her strength. 

"Yes, Jean, have you more news?" 

"There may be a way to find out where Spyke and Toad are, we're using Logan's Com Badge as a tracker. Can you use Cerebro to see where it goes once we send it?" 

"Of course, contact me once the Com Badge has been sent." 

Jean severed the connection and opened her eyes on the room, smiling to Remy with the same friendliness she showed all. He was quite touched, if slightly mystified, how she could remain friendly after what he had done to her and her friends. 

"The Professor will track it." 

He dropped the badge into the bag and closed it, feeling it lighten almost immediately. "It's gone." 

Once again Jean sent her thoughts away, only this time a familiarly cold mental wall blocked her, she opened her eyes to see it in the hazy psychic plane. It was solid, surrounding the room, and far stronger than she could hope to break. Distantly she felt an almost physical sensation of vibration as someone, most likely the Professor, attempted to break through from the other side. She came back to herself in a rush, suddenly entirely awake as fear and adrenaline began to surge once more. 

"Someone's found us! They're blocking me from the Professor!" 

Even as she melded her shield over the door, it blew in as splinters when two metal arms punched straight through the thin and already bowed wood. The force of the strike reverberated off her defences hard enough to drive her to her knees. 

And then she felt the invading psyche began to tighten around her mind, inexorably driving her back into her subconscious. With a shock that lent her strength to fight, she realised whoever this was had every intention of leaving her mind crippled, if not comatose. Faintly Logan's words came through to her. 

"Let the barrier down Red, we can't fight them through it." 

Eyes still tightly shut; she released her hold on the wall and concentrated on the chilled attacker. She didn't want to fight them on the astral plane; it was a dangerous place she had barely any experience with. But it was the only way. With a soft sigh, she felt her body slump to the floor, just registering the sensation of someone standing above her. Whether it was a friendly someone, or a less than friendly someone, she couldn't tell, but it was too late to worry. When her eyes reopened, the battle raging was a ghostly thing, the cord that tied her to her body the most colourful object she could see. The wall around the room was cracked in places as the unrelenting pounding upon it from Xavier slowly began to bring it down. But it wouldn't be quick enough; she was lending her hands to help from the inside when she heard a woman laugh. 

Scott stood over Jean as she collapsed, guessing what she had done and determined nothing would disturb her while she fought on her own field. It had taken a moment to replace his glasses with his visor, a precious few seconds that had lost him the chance to stop people entering the room by blasting them as they tried to come through the doorway. It was too close quarters for Storm to start flinging lightening; instead to his side he saw her spin into a roundhouse kick at the one man who had so far made it past Wolverine. 

Aside from the one appearance of metal arms, there was nothing to suggest their other attackers were mutants, but they were all armed with what looked like shock guns and it seemed there was no end of them pouring through the door. A black uniformed stream that was rapidly beginning to overwhelm them, even Logan was letting more and more past as he tried not to actually kill with claws that had been designed to do only that. And open cans the easy way. 

Even if he had wanted to join the fight, he couldn't. The room was now to full to even consider blasting, he could just as easily hit Kitty or Kurt who seemed to be double teaming as one phased and the other teleported around the room, confusing their attackers into hitting each other with their tazers. Sulphurous smoke was obscuring his vision as he half picked Jean up, dragging her to the relative safety in front of the window, then crouched, ready to take on anything that came near. 

It was with some disgust he realised he couldn't see the thief anywhere in the room. He must have found some way to slip out, probably half a block away by now and laughing at them all. An assailant stumbled out of the smoke, his uniform in shreds, and was immediately hurled back in as Cyclops hit him in the chest with a thin short shot that packed all the force of a rubber bullet. Normally he'd feel a little guilty using even that much of his powers on a person, but right now, he couldn't care less. 

Rogue kept to the walls, trying to remain inconspicuous as she worked off one of her gloves, looking for a target to steal the consciousness from. She hated to do it, as much for herself as for her victim, but her chances of going hand to hand and helping rather than hindering either Storm or Wolverine were slim to none, and she knew it. So intent on the fight she stumbled into something that grunted lightly as she neared the corner. She turned fast, bringing her hand up to find any skin she could, still half covered with the glove. Her fingers hovered an inch from a face from which red eyes blazed with near amusement as Remy held his hands up in mock surrender. He gently took her hand, and raised the back to his lips, giving the lightest kiss on the material without looking away from her suddenly confused eyes with his still amused one. She felt the blush rising quickly, faster still when he released her and pointed to the fight behind her as if to remind her precisely who her attention should be on. 

With a frown of irritation she spun and struck, taking down a man. Benjamin Rochester, single, whose dog was ill and he was worried about it. Who was wondering what to get his mother for Christmas. Who was scared by the resistance they had been told they wouldn't meet. Who looked at her with fading horror as his mind slipped away from him. Who knew exactly whom he worked for. She never felt Remy leave, but when she looked back, eager to tell him her news, he was gone. 

Kurt was rapidly running out of steam, he had rested well enough, but it hadn't been the healing sleep he needed to shake off the effects of the blast. Every _bamf_ he made it felt like he was struggling against more and more weight. As if the universe had suddenly noticed he was defying physics and had decided that most definitely would not do. A flitting image of a hand reaching from the heavens and hitting him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper amused him for a moment as he readied for another jump. 

He had been following Kitty's lead, her pattern was simple enough, she was attempting to phase through as many of the shock guns as she could, rendering them useless. But she had to get close enough to do so, and there she ran the risk of being hit. 

So he distracted for all he was worth, landing on top of their target, hanging briefly from the light upside down before them, anything to get the moment of hesitation that Shadowcat needed to slip in and strike. They must have done ten or more by now, and still it seemed they had done nothing as the electricity crackled. 

From his brief perch on top of the closet, he saw a figure dive out of the door and hit the corridor rolling. It looked like the thief was making an escape, and he could do nothing about it. 

In the corridor Gambit rolled to his feet and spun to meet the charge he felt coming. Metal arm boy. He wasn't dressed like the rip off Storm Troopers, rather in an Edwardian style that matched his curled blond hair fine, but didn't quite go with the cyborg look. Those nasty arms were held out before him as he charged, Remy grinned and snapped his Bo staff to it's fullest length, using it as a vault to flip up and over, landing to deliver a back kick to his opponents head. The man staggered, but he didn't go down, turning in fury just in time to face an angelic looking young man with demon's eyes and a wicked half smile, holding fanned playing cards that glowed a dazzling red before him. 

"C'mon mon ami, pick a card. Any card." 

The man hesitated, hearing the silence that was descending in the room they had attacked and the distant sound of the overworked police drawing closer. The last man able to report on what had occurred ran as Remy shook his head, allowing the charge to die and tucking away the cards into the pocket of his leather great coat as he sauntered back into the room still holding his staff. 

As the smoke of Nightcrawler's teleportation fest began to clear he saw the X-Men huddled by the window, the only floor area free from groaning or unconscious men. He was about to ask what they found so fascinating when he realised he couldn't see Jean. 

The laughter had stopped, now, probably because the woman hadn't found a whole lot of funny in being whipped with a psychic lash. From that opening strike, the fight had begun in earnest. Though it was nothing more than a creation of her mind, her astral from felt battered and bruised, her only consolation was the coldly beautiful, white dressed if you could call what little she wore dressed, woman looked equally as bad. If the other had not been dividing her attention between herself and the wall, Jean suspected she wouldn't have stood a chance. As it was, she was only just holding her own. It had become a stand off, both staggering behind mind shields; hers a flaming orange, the other telepath's an icy blue. 

Then the sweetest sound she had ever heard drew her attention at last from its unblinking stare to the frozen mind wall. It was cracking and tumbling down, constricted by a massive band of force she saw as golden and recognised as the Professor. The wall screamed as it shattered into the shards of another's mind, and she smiled as she at last wearily followed the thread to her body and opened her eyes, blinking at the faces above her that blurred into focus. 

"I know where the Com Badge is" 

Rogue grinned as she aided Scott in carefully getting Jean to her feet. "And ah know who's there." 

Remy leant in the near obliterated doorway, absently twirling a key over and over in his agile fingers. "And Gambit can get us in. Ain't dat nice. Group hug?" 

  
He would never have believed a building could be so big. At least, he assumed he was still in a building, and not some weird nightmare dimension. Hey, it could happen. It seemed like he'd been walking forever, hearing nothing. At least he had a light, Toad had been in such a hurry he'd missed the torch left by the door. A low wattage, but just about enough to see by, showing him enough to know that staying as close to the wall of the corridor as he could was a good plan. 

It hadn't taken him long to work out this was a maze, but it was living up to the Gauntlet title nicely. Every few feet was some nasty little surprise waiting, just for him. How special. An open pit filled with spikes, a pressured floor plate which released some wicked sharp darts that embedded themselves in the wall an inch above where he'd been before he'd flattened himself to the ground. 

That he, Evan, was even complying at all was annoying enough. That Toad had decided it was every man for himself hadn't been a big surprise, so he wasn't angry about that. But he was furious at whoever had done this, he wasn't some rat to send after a piece of cheese. Several times he considered just stopping where he stood and seeing what happened, but then he'd think about what he was going to do to the people at the end and keep going. That and the wall had a bad tendency to start spitting fire if he stayed in one place too long. 

The faith that he would be rescued wasn't diminished, but he was starting to re-evaluate an arrival time. Of course when the X-Men, or hell The Brotherhood, did arrive, there'd be the devil to pay. That bought a grin to his face that lasted until he found his first checkpoint. A small room, walls hidden by the shadows cast from a low light on the ceiling. What was it with these people? Couldn't afford the electric bill or something? 

On a table was one plate, holding a piece of cheese. With a snort he took it and began to eat. Ha. Ha. They were lucky he was hungry enough to eat it, not throw it at them when he escaped. It was hard enough to do some damage, not to mention the smell. He sniffed, putting the cheese down. That wasn't dairy smell, that was Toad smell. 

"Tolensky?" 

From the shadows a voice grudgingly replied. "Yeah." 

He tried to look into the darkness and place a form to the voice, but it was impossible. "Why're you still here ... why is the cheese still here?" 

"Hey, can't a guy do a nice thing yo? I felt bad 'bout leaving you and I figured you'd be hungry." 

Evan nibbled on the cheese thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. "In other words, you figured out you'd been dumb and decided to wait here hoping the cheese'd make up for it?" 

A slightly scorched looking Toad with a bloody furrow along one cheek at last stepped into the puddle of light, scowling. "Did it?" 

Spyke threw him the rest of the cheese. "Yeah." 

A low, rhythmic staccato sound in the distance took a moment to place, both their heads tilted as they considered. Gunfire. It was followed by the unmistakable crack of lightening, Todd felt his scars itching in sympathy with whoever had been struck. A rumbling was next, the walls beginning to shake in torment, fissures appearing at the base. 

They both grinned, Toad put the cheese carefully back on the plate and spoke almost conversationally. "Lance is gonna be pissed at the headache he's gonna get from doing that." 

"Yeah, and Aunty 'ro really hates being shot at." 

After a moment of reflective silence they began to chuckle, then laugh with a high five as the sounds of the fight got closer and closer. 

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**Notes**  
Wheee, that was long ... hope it wasn't too long! I kinda got on a roll ... 


	10. Part 10 - Epilogue

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


Professor Xavier studied the young man sitting on the chair across the desk, waiting for his response. Outside the window, he could hear the sound of a snowball fight that appeared to have escalated into a conflict that might well require UN intervention. From the chorus of Kurt's name in tones ranging from shock to outrage, he suspected no peace treaty would be reached soon. 

"Dis ain't exactly my kinda place, don't t'ink no one'd be willin' t' welcome Gambit in wit' open arms neither." 

Xavier smiled faintly, he could not read the thief's thoughts, nor would he if he could, but the tone and expression had made his reply a tentative question hidden in a blasé grin. 

"I'm not saying you might not have to earn some trust Mr LeBeau, although you appear to have your supporters. Both Rogue and Ororo came within inches of demanding I offer you a place, Logan was less tactful and told me I would be." 

Gambit smirked lightly to hear that, Storm he knew had extended her friendship fully once Evan was safe, trying to make him remember her from before. He hadn't, not really, save for occasional images of a taller girl with hair the colour of snow. But it seemed important to her, so finally he had pretended to recall, and won a smile that had made it worth it. Rogue though had been avoiding him as much as she could, even so far as to claim a headache and avoid leaving her room until it was absolutely necessary. To hear she wanted him to stay after all was surprisingly good, that she had touched on his mind and wasn't insisting he be shown the door. Or window, which ever came first. Wolverine though, there was the big shock ... maybe he just wanted him around to beat on some in this Danger Room they kept on about. 

The sounds of play filtered through to him as he replied at last. "Den what do y' want from me if I stay?" 

Silence reigned once more, this conversation had taken so long they might have been thinking in chess moves rather than words, weighing how the conversation would go before they spoke. 

"You have shown you are a more than capable fighter, I expect there is a great deal you could teach the students." 

Gambit waited, there was more, and they were on the edge of the centre of the conversation now. Something they had both been dancing around, his occupation. Both men knew what it was, both men knew he was now as marked as he ever was. It wouldn't take long for word to get around what he had done. If he was lucky, he'd just never get hired again. If he was unlucky, a Guild Member was take it as a further dishonour to the family and have him killed. 

"And ... you are a Guild Thief. I can't pretend to know precisely what this is, but I am aware it is a rare thing indeed. We are in a dangerous place and time, your contacts and training would be invaluable in ensuring we have the information we need and the ability to protect ourselves from those who would take ours." 

There is was. Both men were watching each other calmly, but the tension in the room had increased, somehow even drowning out the sound outside. 

"Remy an ex-Guild T'ief, and whatever I call myself, stealing still illegal." 

That didn't bother him, but what Xavier was asking clearly bothered the other man. It stepped on none of his principles, but it trod dangerously near them. 

"Of course, and not something I would ask of you unless of extreme urgency. In fact, should you decide to stay with us, your occupation will have to change. I understand you did not finish High School, I would enrol you at the school immediately." 

Another long pause as the seconds on the Grandfather clock ticked by. At last Gambit nodded and stood with a grin. 

"Desolet Professeur, I guess y' got an ex-t'ief under y' roof fo' a while." 

With a twitch of a smile Xavier watched him leave, then rolled his chair to the window to watch his students enjoy the winter. 

  
Shaw stood amongst the rubble that had once been The Hellfire Club, staring down at the now useless black bag that was one half of the portal. Spilling out of it was a badge, scorched by fire but the X emblazoned upon it still visible. It was gone, all gone, for the sake of a bet. 

Once she had recovered his White Queen had cursed him for an arrogant fool and left, taking the half cyborg Donald Pierce, her White Bishop. Where they were now he had no idea, Wynguarde had left soon after without even having the grace to speak to him. 

All was in ruins. Between them the X-Men and the Brotherhood had left no two stones standing, none of the files remained to him, and yet he smiled. A terrible dark smile he had no faculties to tell was tinged with madness. 

Ruins could be rebuilt and vengeance need never be immediate. 

One foot came down deliberately upon the Com Badge, he ground it into the earth and heard it shattering. And he laughed. 

  
In his laboratory, a scientist flicked absently through copies of the files he had taken. Without looking at the woman across the room, he spoke quietly and in excellent humour. Something for which she was most relieved. 

"Arclight? We will soon be having guests. Two gentlemen and a lady. Please make their accommodations ready." 

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**Notes**  
Ok! I'm done! Bwah hahahahahhaha. ::coughs:: Anyway, thank you sooo much for the reviews, I treasured each and every one, although mention goes to Rascal for reviewing nearly every chapter. I would never have finished without all the words of encouragement. If there's interest, I may well write a sequal ... 


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